


[Podfic + Text] Just Another Step Forward

by bravinto



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Conversations, M/M, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sexuality Crisis, Sleepy Cuddles, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:25:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravinto/pseuds/bravinto
Summary: Ellison thinks back; his whole life he was trying to be adequate and good at the things he does, nothing extraordinary, just a good son, a good soldier, a good cop. Do what you have to, take charge when you have to. Get a job. Find a girl. Settle down and get married. Buy a house. But things just don’t want to turn out that way. He’s got enhanced senses, he can bring back the dead and talk to ghosts, and he’s in bed with a man who isn’t even his lover. How did that happen?..or Jim continues his journey towards self-discovery





	[Podfic + Text] Just Another Step Forward

**Author's Note:**

> i just watched the series, and i'm new to this; i briefly considered posting this anonymously, but given that i only ever write about talking in bed, my MO would be a dead giveaway, so why bother XD I hope someone enjoys this story!
> 
> update: i recorded a podfic, you can download it from mediafire!

_**[download audio from Mediafire](http://www.mediafire.com/file/h4yd1b9955jbl3m/ellison.mp3) ** _

 

It’s raining in Cascade; when doesn’t it, really?

 Ellison likes the rain; he’s lived here his whole life, he is used to the moody weather.The taptaptap of the raindrops on the roof and the bleak watery smell are a comforting background to his life. It is like a white noise machine, only better, painting the city in the soft greens and greys, the fuzzy watercolor strokes over the wet misty paper. He’s gotta ask Blair what this art style is called some time.

He can hear him wander listlessly downstairs, sipping some sort of bitter concoction - must be a folk insomnia remedy, - from one of the tall glasses Simon got them as a present. The day is long done, the downtrodden are safe and sound, the villains are packed away securely behind the bars (or six feet under), but the sleep won’t come. It’s calm and quiet, as quiet as it gets, anyway, but suddenly it just seems so stupid to be apart and wallow restless, when Blair is mere footsteps away.

 

“Sandburg,” he says.

It is too loud, and the drift carries it all around the loft. Blair shifts, turns his head, surprised.

“Yeah?” he calls back, quieter, of course he knows that Ellison can hear him just fine.

Anywhere. Any time.

“You up?”

He hears Blair’s bare feet pad across the room; the stairs creak half-heartedly under his slight weight as he ascends. His hair is haloed by the dim light coming from the window; he looks ghostly and ethereal, and for a moment it hurts, unbearable and dire, in the pit Ellison’s stomach, because… Because. Blair means home, he is of earth, and flesh and blood, he must be here, close and alive, right here.

 “Can’t sleep?” Blair asks.

“Uhuh,” Ellison mumbles non-committally.

Blair sits on the edge of his bed and smiles a small, peaceful smile. It looks sad, somehow.

“Meh, me neither. Could be the weather. Pressure changing, that sort of thing.”

His eyebrows are raised in a questioning gesture.

“No,” Ellison sighs. “It’s not the weather.”

Blair slumps a little.

“And there I was hoping for an out.”

“No such luck.”

 

Ellison lifts up the sheets, wishing that Blair would get it, that he doesn’t want to be alone tonight. He gets it, of course. Out of the two of them, Blair has always been the emotionally conscious one. He crawls in and clings to Ellison’s side, his small body warm through the soft fabric of his pajamas. An anchor, a comfort. Always.

“Hey chief, - ” Ellison starts, then pauses.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Blair says.

“Do you have thoughts on marriage?”

“Uh… what exactly do you mean?”

He sounds confused, yet his heart picks up, just a fraction.

“I don’t… mean getting married, necessarily. Just, settling down.”

“I really don’t know what you mean, Jim. Please explain, I will answer.”

He rubs  Ellison’s chest, like a warm inhale of reassurance and courage. Ellison takes a breath, it shouldn’t feel as fortifying as it does.

“I’ve been thinking about his lately… I am a Sentinel, I’ve chosen this. And you, you have showed that you have chosen to be my guide and my friend above many other things… It’s just, I cannot imagine getting as close with anyone as I am with you. I was married once, I thought I got it right, but. The connection just wasn’t strong enough. I wonder, if I ever decided to… with anybody, what would it mean if I can only say these things to you, how…” the words are slipping away, rapidly, and the nasty feeling is settling low over his heart; he’s screwing this up, he shouldn’t have started this talk at all. “Um. No, this is a bad idea.”

“No, no, Jim,” Blair says, urgent. “This is important. Let’s talk. Do you - do you feel trapped in this relationship?”

Blair’s voice trembles around the edges, just a little bit.

“No! No, Blair, being around you helps me to feel free, if anything,” Ellison sighs, then adds, “do _you_ feel trapped?”

There is a long pause; it could have been terrible, full of voids and silence, but Blair’s heartbeat is still close, loud as ever.

“I don’t know,” he says at last.

Ellison thinks he stays still and in control, but some reflective movement must give him away, because Blair scrambles to hold on, pressing closer into his side.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he says firmly. “I love being around you. And I want to stick around . But for the sake of objectivity, I _do_ have commitment issues. I just gotta work on them.”

“You want to stick around?”

In the transparent darkness, Blair’s eyes find his. His face is sincere and hopeful; he’s always been sincere, despite everything.

“Yes, very much. Help me with that?”

“Will do, chief.”

 

They hold on and stay silent for a while, until the crisis subsides. Ellison thinks back; his whole life he was trying to be adequate and good at the things he does, nothing extraordinary, just a good son, a good soldier, a good cop. Do what you have to, take charge when you have to. Get a job. Find a girl. Settle down and get married. Buy a house. But things just don’t want to turn out that way. He’s got enhanced senses, he can bring back the dead and talk to ghosts, and he’s in bed with a man who isn’t even his lover. How did that happen?..

“Sandburg,” he says, again, as if the kid knows all the answers. He has so far, hasn’t he?

Blairs chirps in a way that means he’s awake and listening.

“I always thought I was straight, “ Ellison says.

He wonders if it is cruel to talk about these things; Blair has never made a secret of his versatile love life, even though he’s usually toned it down in the professional setting. Blair has always been considerate and understanding when it came to Ellison’s inner searchings, even when he was unreasonable or snappy. He trusts Blair to extend his kindness here as well and offer directions again.

“But you are not?”

“I don’t know,” Ellison sighs. “I never questioned it, never thought about it. I thought I only liked women, I fell in love with women, but I am closer to you than I’ve ever been to anyone else. What does that mean?”

“Hm. Basing on what you’ve told me, I would say you are probably demisexual or demiromantic, depending on the model, about two on Kinsey scale; but it’s really not my place to label you. It is entirely up to you. I can get you some reading, if you want to find a precise definition, that is.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is, though,” Blair says, raising, his academic enthusiasm shining through. “Gender is a social construct, - “

“- as you keep telling me - “

“- and if you look over the variety of gender identities and the ways of expressing them all over the world, your eyes just open to the fact that there is no single model; it is all a spectrum, at best… After that, the question of sexuality feels a bit like a moot point, at least to me. I gave up on trying to label myself years ago.”

“Huh.”

“Heyo,” Blair turns to him again with a gentle concern, his curly hair tickling Ellison’s neck. “No gay panic, okay? The universe is infinite and wondrous. There is no wrong way to be. Whatever you decide upon, whatever alignment you feel suits you best - if any! - it’s okay. Alright, man?”

“Alright. Just…”

“What?”

“If this is how we are, shouldn’t we just date, you know?..”

Another long silence drags in the dark loft.

“Are you asking me out?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“Okay!” Blair throws his hands up.

“Well, we _are_ in bed.”

“Are you suggesting we should have sex?”

Blair is warm, so close, smirking a little at his ear. How frighteningly easy could it be to turn into him, gather him close, turn the embrace into something way less innocent, taste the bitter aftertaste of herbs on his lips.

“I don’t know,” Ellison huffs and turns on his other side, away from Blair. He hears him chuckle.

“Whatever you say, big guy.”

“Okay, maybe.”

“I guess this is all I get,” Blair says, grumpy on the surface, but there is easy laughter in his ribs as he spoons behind Ellison and snakes an arm around his chest. “Alright, I am saying, on the record: I am down, if you are. Depends on my health and mood on any given day, of course, but generally speaking, yes.”

“Duly noted.” Ellison covers his hand with his own. “Chief, I think I’d want to try. Um, but not in this bed.”

“My closet is always open! Or we could stay at the motel. Wait, how about that cabin near the lake?”

Ellison can’t see Blair’s face but he can tell he’s wiggling his eyebrows.

“Slow down there, I haven’t even decided if I like you.”

“Okay, baby steps.”

“And not tonight.”

Blair snorts.

“Yeah no, we outta sleep. I have training tomorrow.”

 

They snuggle for some time, but the topic stays on Ellison’s mind, so he speaks up after several minutes:

“Naomi always says ‘your friendship’ when she talks about us, but I get this feeling like she treats me like her in-law.”

“In-law-enforcement. Trust me, my mother does not believe in marriage any more than I do, man. No need to swap ball-and-chain jokes with your co-workers.”

“ _You_ are my co-worker,” Ellison deadpans.

He feels Blair giggle quietly behind his back.

“You are my co-worker,” he mimics.

They laugh themselves to sleep to the incessant pitpat of the rain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> generally speaking, I am not a big fan of sexuality crisis trope in fic, but in this case it seemed appropriate :D


End file.
